One Good Turn
by Gayle
Summary: (Finished) Sam falls ill, and Frodo sends him home to recover. Non slash, no profanity or sexual situations. Read and review, but no flames please.
1. Working Sam's point of view

Disclaimer, I do not own Sam or Frodo, I am just borrowing them. I do not own Bag End, I am just borrowing it. As a matter of fact, I only own the plot.  
  
I woke up with the worst headache that I had ever had. My eyes ached, even my sinuses hurt. But I also had a lot of work to do. The hedges needed to be trimmed and watered. I needed to work on the grass in front of Bag End; it was getting a little shaggy in the front. I reached for the glass of water that I always had on my bedside table, "Add sore throat to my growing list of pains." I thought to myself as I tried to swallow. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and stood shakily to my feet. "Whoa." I braced myself up against my bedpost as all the blood in my entire body rushed to my head. I felt dizzy, weak, almost. My nose was stuffy, yet runny at the same time. I sniffed, rummaging through my dresser for clean handkerchiefs and a hat, a warm, thick hat. It was still fairly early spring and I was so cold this morning.   
When I got to Bag End, Mr. Frodo was already waiting for me, his arms folded across his chest, face stern. "You're late, Sam." I felt the blush that I could never control rise to my cheeks, but when I looked up, I saw that he was smiling. "Your breakfast is getting cold. Come inside and sit by the fire, there is still a chill in the air. Judging from your red nose and cheeks, you feel it, too. I made bacon and toast with marmalade, flapjacks as well as oatmeal, I hope you're hungry."  
I was anything but, actually, but I did need my strength for my work, that seemed endless today, for some reason. I usually liked working at the house, near the kindest master that anyone could ask for, but today it all seemed so unimportant, somehow. I took a little bit of everything, managed to force it down, then headed out the door to the small hobbit-hole that served as a gardening shed.  
I started off to trim the hedges and felt this horrible prickling in my nose. I fished out one of my handkerchiefs and sneezed into it three times. That left me reeling and feeling light-headed. I chose to ignore it and get on with my work.  
Two hours later, I was finished with the hedges and began work on the grass in the front of the windows. I didn't even notice that Mr. Frodo was watching me until I sneezed again. "That is the sixth time you've sneezed since I've been out here, Samwise Gamgee. Aren't you feeling well?"  
"Yes Master Frodo, I'm feeling fine." I lied to my employer, and felt horrid about it, but all the same, I continued my lie, "Just a little something up my nose, that's all." I sneezed again for good measure. Mr. Frodo eyed me with a of bit suspicion but said nothing, as I sneezed for an eighth time, "Come in and have some lemonade Sam, it's too warm out here for heavy labor without some refreshment."  
I hadn't noticed that it had, indeed, gotten much warmer when the sun came up more. I was still chilled. I groaned inwardly, guessing that that meant I was really getting sick. I had too much to do to get sick, though. I followed Mr. Frodo into the hobbit-hole for lemonade and gingerbread. I drank the lemonade gratefully, but I wasn't hungry, so I didn't eat. I looked up to see my boss looking at me intently as I pushed myself up from the table, "Well, I s'pose I'd best get to work again. That grass ain't gonna cut it's self, ya know."  
"Sam, have a seat. I think the grass can wait for a little while, let's have a talk. Now, how are you really feeling?"  
Trapped, I felt trapped. Now I had to tell him. "Master Frodo, I ain't feelin' too good. My head hurts something awful and I feel stiff and achy." I started to cough when I finished my list of complaints.  
"Oh Sam, why didn't you tell me that you were ill? I would have given you the day off. I would have given you all the time you needed to get better. You'll only make yourself worse if you don't rest." Mr. Frodo was looking at me in sad disappointment. I felt about two inches tall, knowing that I had upset someone who I love like my very own brother, even if I do work for him. "Sam, I want you to go home. You're sick, and that's where you need to be right now. I'll come over later to see if you need anything, alright?"  
"Yes Master Frodo," I hung my head, like a small hobbit who was caught getting into the cookie jar without permission, "I'm sorry. I'll take better care of myself."  
He smiled at me, "Good. Make yourself hot tea and then go to bed. Don't worry about coming over in the morning, if you don't feel like it."   
I nodded, the small motion setting off my headache more, "Alright, Mr. Frodo, if you think it's for the best." I went outside and began to gather up my tools and put them back in the hobbit-shed. Then I went back inside for my hat. Mr. Frodo walked me to the door and shook my hand, as he always did when I left for the day.  
"Sam, your hands are so cold, are your feet as cold as your hands?" He was looking at me with a kind concern that was very warming, so I just nodded, feeling that it was useless to lie to him anymore. "Poor Sam. Get some rest and feel better, ok."  
I nodded again as I traveled down the path from Bag End, to my own, smaller but very comfortable, hobbit-hole. Once I was inside, I fulfilled my promise and made myself a cup of hot tea. When it was done, I wrapped myself in my favorite quilt and just let myself feel miserable. I began to sneeze again, thinking, as I pulled out my handkerchief from my pocket, that I was glad that I had enough sense to set down my tea when I felt it coming. Exhausted from the outburst, I settled down against the pillows on my sofa, taking my drink I my hands again. When I finished it I set the cup down. I sniffled, and tiredly dragged my handkerchief across my nose, and then I fell asleep.  
I have no clue how long I slept, but the sky was dark and peaceful when I woke up. "I feel awful." I rasped to myself, noting how much more sore my throat was and much more I ached. Considering the fact that I was shivering and hot at the same time, I knew I had a fever. I was incredibly thirsty, too. After I got a drink of cold water, I dragged myself to my bedroom, and cuddled under the covers, feeling every bit the sick hobbit that I knew I was. 


	2. Watching Frodo's point of view

Disclaimer, Sam; not mine, Frodo; not mine, only plot is mine.  
  
I was watching as Sam came up my walk. I decided to tease him by acting angry with him for being late. He really wasn't that late, maybe fifteen minutes but I was so used to him being on time, even early, so I had already made breakfast, and it was getting cold. He looked so ashamed when I told him that he was late, that I quickly dropped my pretence of being mad. He seemed to relax when I smiled at him and let him into the house.  
I gave Sam his breakfast and waited for him to chatter on about nothing in particular. When he didn't, I began to worry. "Sam, are you mad at me? If I've done anything that you didn't like, you can tell me you know. I won't get angry with you."  
Sam jumped when I spoke to him, as if he wasn't expecting me to address him at all. "No sir, Mr. Frodo, sir. I ain't mad at ya. I couldn't never be mad at ya. Just thinking, that's all."  
I was interested, as Sam's thoughts are often amusing, so I pressed him. "And what were you thinking about, Mr. Gamgee?" I watched as he grew red again, and muttered something about Rosie Cotton. I chuckled under my breath. Poor Sam has been sweet on little Rosie Cotton ever since they were both wee things, but he was always too shy to say anything to her. I won't say that he lacked courage, but self-esteem. Sam never had much of that. I've talked to him about that many times, when asked him about him intentions with Rosie. His standard answer was, "She wouldn't never want me Mr. Frodo. What would someone like her want a clumsy oaf like me for?" Then he would go to his work, a bit embarrassed, but determined to do something he enjoyed and not let a trivial thing such as whether or not a hobbit-lass liked him ruin his day.  
He ate so slowly this morning but he would not let me think that anything was wrong. As soon as he finished, he was outside, working.   
Two hours later, I was getting worried, Sam never takes this long to trim the hedges. Usually he would be coming in to the house asking about something to drink, or telling me that he was done with his first two chores and what do I want him to work on now. I decided to investigate. Quietly, I pulled open the door of Bag End and stood watching him. He looked as though he was feeling miserable. He kept wiping his nose and sneezing into his handkerchief. I kept track, after his sixth one I made my presences known. "That's the sixth time you've sneezed since I've been out here, Samwise Gamgee. Aren't you feeling well?" He told me a bald-faced lie, forgetting that not only had I known him for a very long time, he was also the absolute worst liar in all of Middle-Earth. His face and ears go red, he stammers and he cannot look you in the eyes. I let him continue, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer.  
When we got into the hole, I watched him drink two glasses of lemonade, but not touch the gingerbread. That would have told me that he wasn't feeling well if I couldn't see that he wasn't already. I wanted to put my arms around him and hold him.   
As he finished, I knew that I needed to talk to him. He was going to kill himself if he wasn't careful. "Well, I s'pose I'd best get to work, that grass ain't gonna cut itself, ya know."  
My heart went out to him, anyone could see that he was sick. "Sam, have a seat. I think the grass can wait for a little while. Let's have a talk. Now, how are you really feeling?"  
His face fell, even though he should have known that I was going to ask him something like that. I love him too much not to worry about him. But at the same time, I felt a bit disappointed in him. He should have just told me that he wasn't feeling well and saved himself the extra work. I listened to him as he poured out all his aches and pains to me. I could sympathize with him, as I had just gotten over a particularly nasty bout of influenza myself, which is probably were he got it. Every morning he would poke his head in my room and ask if I needed anything, every afternoon would be spent at my bedside, washing my face with a cool cloth and taking great care of me, and every night, before he left, he would come in my room and just talk to me for a bit. That was the time I liked best, because he never failed to amuse me, even though I knew that he wasn't trying to be funny.  
He finished his list of maladies and felt so bad for him. I told him that he needed to go home and rest. I wasn't going to make him work when he was so ill. He looked at his feet, crestfallen, and mumbled a "Yes Master Frodo, I'm sorry, I'll take better care of myself," and went outside to put his tools away.  
When he came back in for his things, I took his hand in both of mine. The sheer cold that was coming off them frightened me. I commented on them asking him if his feet were that cold. If a hobbit's feet get that cold, there is something definitely wrong with him. He nodded and shivered, looking so sick I felt nothing but pity for him. As I watched my friend start down the path I hoped that he would be alright.  
I turned away and headed back into my hobbit-hole, vowing that I would look in on him tomorrow. After he sat with me for over two weeks it was the least I could do.  
The next day I woke, and the first thing on my mind was "I wonder how Sam is doing this morning." I got up and packed a basket of things that I thought I might need when I went over there. I opened the door and was greeted by a gust of cold wind, I shivered, pulling my cloak tighter around me. I made fairly good time getting to Sam's place, considering the fact that the wind was blowing so hard. I knocked on the door, and waited, listening for Sam's feet as he came to let me in. When they didn't come, I knocked again. Nothing, I pushed open the door, letting myself into the hobbit-hole. Gaping around at what I saw, I was shocked. There was no sign of Sam, and the house was very cold. The fire had gone out, none of the lamps were lit, and from somewhere, a chilly breeze came in the house. I looked around and found the culprit that was allowing the wind inside. Someone had opened a window the night before, and forgotten to close it. I walked through the narrow hallway to Sam's bedroom, and opened the door. To my horror, he was laying on the floor, as if he had fallen out of bed and didn't have the strength to get up again. I raced to his side and knelt down, shaking him very gently as I did so. "Sam, Sam, wake up now. You fell out of bed, do you remember? Do you remember anything from last night?" He groaned, his eyelashes fluttered but his eyes would not open. "Come on Sam, you're going to have to help me. I can't lift you by myself." Slowly, Sam supported some of his weight so that I could get him back into his bed. I arranged the covers neatly over him, then placed my hand to his forehead. It was hot. "Oh, Sam, you're so warm! I'm going to go get you something for it." With that, I ran out of the room and filled a basin with cool water, snatched a cloth from the linen closet and hurried back into his room, for fear that he may fall out of bed again.   
I found myself looking down at the best friend anyone could ever ask for, he and I had gone though a lot together, some good, some bad. He was with me when Bilbo left a while back, and I was with him when his favorite dog died, last winter.   
As reluctant as I was to leave Sam's side, I knew that I had to get something warm to drink and a heating brick for his feet. His poor feet were so cold, I realized as I began to rub them. Softly, Sam moaned and stirred as he began to wake up, "Mr. Frodo?"  
I laughed softly, "Yes Sam, it's me. Why do you sound so surprised? I told you I would be here in the morning. Besides, after all you did for me those days that I was so sick, where else could I be?"  
He gave a small, contented sigh, and snuggled down into the pillows again. "Sam, do you think that you could stay awake for just a little while so I can get you something to drink? I'll only be a few minutes."  
Sam nodded a bit sleepily, nestling down farther into the quilts. I pulled them up to his chin, "Try to stay awake, Sam. I'll be right back."  
I brought him a hot cup of chamomile tea, and had to hold his head up as he sipped it slowly. I pulled it away and set it down as his nose wrinkled, he sneezed twice, and I held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. "Poor Sam, you really feel sick, don't you? Do you want some more tea?"  
He nodded, "Yes please, Mr. Frodo." He sounded stuffy and raspy. I allowed him to lie his head up against my shoulder while I administered the tea, sip by slow sip, careful not to give him too much at a time, for fear of choking him.  
After his tea, Sam fell asleep again. Pushing his slightly damp curls out of his face, I thought back on the better times I had spent with my best friend. 


	3. Resting Sam's point of view

Disclaimer, I own neither of the hobbits portrayed in this story, and I get no money from writing it.   
  
I felt something or someone shaking my shoulder and heard that someone speaking my name. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was Master Frodo. He sounded worried, but I didn't think it was important enough to open my eyes for him, for some reason. No, it was important, answering Mr. Frodo was always important. I just didn't feel that I had the strength to do so. I tried to reply to him calling me, but I couldn't muster anything but a groan that didn't even sound like my own voice. Somehow, Mr. Frodo understood that I wasn't meaning any impertinence, I just couldn't talk right. He knew that. I heard him asking me what I remembered about last night. I didn't remember anything. Well, almost anything, I remember being hot. I felt like I was on fire, so I opened the window. Then I was freezing, but I couldn't get up again.  
He helped me back on my bed, and I was much more comfortable. My body ached so badly, and I was very cold. Mr. Frodo was talking to me but I didn't quite understand what he was saying. I felt his cool hand on my forehead, the only part of me that felt hot anymore. The touch was comforting .   
He left the room and came back shortly. He placed a cold washrag on my forehead, "There you are, Sam. This will get that fever of yours down." I coughed, wishing I had my handkerchief. "Mr. Frodo?" I managed to croak.   
I heard his laugh. A gentle, non-threatening laugh that made me feel quite warm and content. "Yes, Sam, it's me." He brought up the fact that I took care of him when he was so sick, a couple of weeks ago, but I didn't do anything out of the ordinary. He was ill, I wasn't, so I took care of him. It wasn't as if I'd killed a dragon that was going to eat him, or walked through a fire to save him, I just did what any normal, self-respecting hobbit would do.  
I looked up at him, and saw that he was smiling at me again. It feels so good to know that someone cares about you enough to want to come over to your house and see you when you're less than your best. I feel that Mr. Frodo is another brother to me, even though I do work for him.   
"Do you need anything else, Sam?" he was folding up the rag and putting back into the basin as he spoke to me, "Are you thirsty?"  
Thirsty, yes, I was extremely thirsty! I hadn't thought about it until he mentioned it, but I was. I nodded just a little bit, anything more and my headache would have gone off again.  
"Right Sam, I'll make you some tea, alright? Stay put, I know my way around a kitchen. Yours can't be too terribly different from mine. Tea's in the cupboard over the stove, correct?" He arranged the blankets over me as I nodded again. He was right, my kitchen was hardly any different from his. I'd modeled it after the one at Bag End, very simple and very familiar. My thoughts trailed off after Mr. Frodo left the room. I thought about that kitchen. I remembered when I was a little hobbit how Mr. Frodo would chase me around and keep me entertained while my Gaffer would do the gardening. I remember Master Bilbo sitting me at the table teaching me how to read after I was done with my work and teaching me some Elvish words too. I shut my eyes, allowing the light feel of sleep to wash over me. I shook myself suddenly, Mr. Frodo asked me to try to stay awake. I would try.  
"Sam, are you still awake?" I started as my employer came back into my bedroom. I murmured a reply, but it came out somewhat garbled, "Good, here, let me help you sit up and let's get this tea into you." I sipped it, allowing the liquid to warm my throat when I felt another sneeze coming. Master Frodo saw the problem, and held a handkerchief over my face after he put the tea down. "Poor Sam, You really feel sick, don't you? Do you want some more tea?"  
"Yes please, Mr. Frodo." I said in a voice that I truly didn't recognize as my own. It sounded awful. He let me rest my head on his shoulder as I drank. It felt heavy, and I wasn't sure if I could support it on my own. I felt very stuffed up, even after I was done drinking. I felt drowsy too, and Mr. Frodo could tell that I needed to sleep again, so he didn't say anything to me and I was asleep before I knew what was happening.  
When I woke up next, I felt a bit worse. My throat hurt something terrible, and I couldn't talk at all. I had no idea how long I slept, but it was very bright outside when I opened my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to go outside and work the garden, but that was out of the question. I doubted very much that I could get out of my bed, for one thing. For another thing, I would disturb Mr. Frodo, who had fallen asleep in the easy chair beside my bed. He looked tired, and I hated to wake him, so I quietly took the book from my bedside table and opened it to the page that I had left off. I felt my eyelids growing heavy after the third sentence, so I let myself drift back into the peace that is sleep.  
Something was chasing me! I couldn't see it, but I could feel it breathing down my neck. I tripped over a root and the thing got closer. I had to get up again so that I could find a safe place away from this creature. My legs carried me to the end of a path in the forest and nothing but a wood with no path lay before me. I continued, but the very trees were against me. They grabbed me and tried to hold me so that this thing could take me away. I pulled free and kept on running until I had nowhere else to go. I was up against a rock face, the invisible fiend was getting nearer. With one last burst of energy I screamed, then sank down crying, waiting for the inevitable. But something else was there. Someone was calling me. I wanted to answer the voice because it was a nice sounding voice, but I couldn't. It grew more insistent, so I finally looked up.  
I opened my aching eyes. A dream, it had all been a bad dream. I focused on Mr. Frodo, who was standing over me washing my face with the washrag. I had never felt such relief before in my life. Much to my embarrassment, I began crying again. "Shh, Sam, you're alright now. It was just a nightmare. You'll be fine after a bit." I knew it was just a nightmare, but it felt so real. He seemed to read my thoughts, "I know Sam, all nightmares feel real when your having them, don't they?" He smiled a sympathetic kind of smile at me before helping me sit up again. "Do you want to try to eat a bit of soup? I made some earlier, so all I have to do is reheat it."  
I nodded, still not trusting my voice enough to talk, I probably wouldn't be able to anyway, my throat hurt so badly. "Good, I'll be right back." I picked up my book again and opened it to where I had left off. "That was a bad idea" I thought as sharp pains pricked me all over my eyes and forehead. I just wasn't well enough to read, yet. I settled back on my pillows, closing my eyes lightly, but not wanting to sleep, I didn't want the nightmares to return.   
Mr. Frodo pushed open my door and came in with a tray. I watched with half closed eyes as he set the tray down on the foot of my bed and opened a napkin, which he spread over my covers. "Right then, Sam. There are two ways we can go about doing this. I could try helping you or you can do it yourself."  
There was no way I was going to let Mr. Frodo feed me, it would be too humiliating. I lifted the spoon and found it to be much heavier than I remembered spoons ever being in the past, but I managed to get it to my mouth. After about three lifts, though, I was exhausted. "Don't worry about it, Sam, I can help you. There's no one in here but me. Heaven knows I could never laugh at you. You've taken care of me more times than I can count."  
As I lay there, allowing Master Frodo to spoon the soup into my mouth, I wished vaguely that he would not keep bringing that up. Of course I was going to take care of him. I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. I only did what any hobbit would have done in my position. I did nothing spectacular.   
When I could eat no more, he took the tray away, and told me to sleep. It's very embarrassing to sleep all the time, but at the same time, I would welcome it. I hoped Mr. Frodo would understand if I took him up on that offer. His eyes were kind and friendly, so I nodded and closed them again, this time slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber. 


	4. Thinking Frodo's point of view

Disclaimer, I don't own Sam, Frodo or anything else here, I only thought up the plotline.  
  
I went into Sam's kitchen after he dropped off again. He was going to need some sort of nourishment if he ever hoped to recover. I busied myself by making Bilbo's famous vegetable soup, which he would always make for me when I was ill. Well, maybe it wasn't famous, per say but it was very good and made the eater forget his sundry ailments. I set it over the flame and watched as it slowly began to boil. When it was done, I took it off to cool and went back into Sam's bedroom. He was sleeping so peacefully that I didn't have the heart to wake him, so I sat down in the chair beside his bed. I really didn't mean to fall asleep, but the chair was so comfortable that I did.  
I was jerked awake by a scream. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was still in Sam's house and a few more to realize that the scream was coming from Sam. I leaped to my feet and shook his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. "Sam, Sam, wake up now, it's just a dream." I reached for the basin and took the washcloth out of the still cool water. I began to wash his flushed and damp face with it while I continued to speak his name. "Sam, you'll be alright." To my relief his eyes started to flutter open, so I kept talking to him, "Sam wake up now, can you hear me?" I smiled as he focused on me. I watched as tears formed in his eyes and spilled over down his cheeks. I brushed them away, seeing the shame that was written so plainly on his face. "Shh, Sam, you're alright now." I soothed, "it was just a nightmare. You'll be fine after a bit." He looked as if he was still frightened, so I reassured him by telling him that even though nightmares feel real, they weren't. He looked up at me again, seeming to relax a bit when I remembered Bilbo's "famous" soup. I smiled encouragingly at him, "Do you want to try to eat a bit of soup? I made some earlier so all I have to do is reheat it." I was satisfied with the half-hearted nod that I got as an answer, "Good, I'll be back." I patted Sam's cheek before I left the room, and was a bit disheartened to find that it wasn't any cooler that it had been before. But I really didn't expect it to be, after all, I had only felt to see how high the fever was a few hours ago.   
Sam looked as if he were sleeping when I came back in the room, but I saw that his eyes were only half closed and he was watching me through them. I picked up the large napkin and spread it over his blankets, just incase something upset the soup. Then I placed the tray over the napkin, pulled up the chair and asked him if wanted to feed himself, or if he wanted me to help him. His answer was lifting the spoon and managing to get it into his mouth on his own, though it looked as though it required a great deal more energy than was necessary. After he did this another two times I could tell he was wearing himself out. Gently I took the spoon from him, reassuring him at the same time that there was no one in here but me, and I wasn't going to laugh at him. I braced my hand against the back of his head, so that it wouldn't fall back and gave him the soup. I was a bit slow as I did so due to the fact that I wasn't sure how much Sam could take at once. When he was finished, I told him that he needed to go to sleep again. Sam looked at me with a bit of embarrassment in his gaze. He must have been feeling rather useless by now, always having to be catered to, but he was sick. Being sick gave him a right to lay around and sleep. I just nodded again, telling him without words that I really wanted him to sleep. With my permission, he closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax totally.  
I went into the kitchen to tidy up anything I had made a mess of when I was cooking. To my surprise, I hadn't made that big of a mess this time. I am not a messy person, but when I cook I have tendency to be over enthusiastic, as Bilbo would say. I finished cleaning and headed back into Sam's room. He was still sleeping so I settled back into the chair, and allowed my own eyelids to grow heavy again.   
A few hours later, I woke up to the sight of Sam watching me. It was good sign, but I was a bit annoyed with myself for allowing myself to fall asleep and force Sam to look after himself. I had no doubt that he was able, but I was put out just the same. I began trying to find a way to make up for my lack of care when my sight fixed on a book that was beside his bed. Why hadn't I thought of that before? I picked it up and examined the cover. "Sam, would you like me to read to you?" I asked him, hoping that he would say yes. I loved this book. It was a book of Elvish tales that Bilbo had given him a few months before he left. I could tell that it was Sam's favorite book by the way it looked well used. It wasn't dog-eared or crumpled, it just looked as if he read it a lot. Bilbo would have been pleased to see that Sam was getting such good use out of his present. If there was one thing Bilbo enjoyed more than giving presents, it was seeing them being put to good use. Happily, Sam nodded. "Right then, would you mind if I started over? It's been a while since I read these stories." Another nod, "Good." I read out loud to Sam until I saw his eyelids drooping again. "Aright, Sam, go back to sleep. You need your rest, and I'll be here when you wake up." I pushed his hair out of his face again. This time he stayed awake long enough to look up at me with trust in his eyes. As he allowed sleep to over take him, I couldn't help thinking about all the fun times we had together. I remember taking him down to the swimming hole and trying to teach him how to swim, even though he never did learn. He was always afraid of water. He tried to teach me how to plant a garden, even though I never did learn. I would always over-water or under-water, killing the plants either way. Poor Sam was always so patient with me, but I never got the concept. Bilbo laughed so hard when I came in the house excitedly showing him my tiny little carrots that I had managed not to kill, with a great deal of Sam's supervision, they were hardly big enough to make a mouthful each, but we ate them just the same. I chuckled at the memory. Whenever Sam told that story, he made the carrots out to be much larger than they really were, and left a great deal of his part out. He just is not the kind to try to take any credit, due or undue, for himself. But he wouldn't be Sam if he didn't do things like that, and I respect him a lot more than if he would try to insert himself. He let's his work speak for him, and people can see what he does anyway. 


	5. Reflecting Sam's point of view

Disclaimer, The hobbits mentioned in this story are Tolkien's, not mine. I am not paid for this.  
A/N The eating dirt part in this story happened to me when I would make a nuisance of myself with my aunt (Who was only eight years older than me) and my older sister.  
  
I woke up feeling a bit better. When I looked over at my chair I saw that it was still occupied by Mr. Frodo, who was sleeping in it. I smiled and rested my eyes. They were still achy, but I didn't feel that I could sleep anymore, which was a good thing. I thought back on the first time I met Mr. Frodo. My Gaffer had brought me to Bag End because I had been getting into mischief and he thought that a good lesson in work was just what I needed to sort me out. He tried to teach me things about the garden, but I was so young that I couldn't sit still for that long. Finally he got fed up with me and sent me into the yard to play. I saw Mr. Frodo sitting under a tree reading a book. I had seen him in the village with Master Bilbo, but I had never met him before. I stopped playing and just looked at him, scared that he might yell at me if I was too noisy, like my brothers did. He could tell that someone was watching him, I think, and he looked up from his reading. Then I thought I was really going to get it. If I even thought about disturbing my brothers, they wrestled me down on the ground and made me eat dirt. I hoped that he wasn't going to do that. Much to my relief, he just put a slip of paper in his book, set it down, and came over to me, smiling. "Hello there, what's your name?" He asked, bending down and looking at me face to face.  
I could feel myself getting red, I hadn't thought he was going to talk to me. "Samwise Gamgee."  
Oh, your Mr. Gamgee's son! I'm Frodo Baggins, pleased to meet you, Samwise."  
I hadn't thought that he would talk to me like this. Like I was a grownup, I mean. Normally older people talked to me in baby talk, didn't talk to me at all, or told me to move along. "I'm just Sam, Mr. Frodo Baggins"  
He grinned down at me, "Then I'm just Frodo, Sam."   
We played for the rest of the day. He helped me climb high up to the middle branch of a tall tree, (six feet is high to a hobbit,) but we quickly had to get down because my dad was yelling so hard at me. He was afraid I was going to get my neck broken. I really didn't like being up there, anyway, Mr. Frodo didn't seem to mind though, I made up my mind then and there that he was the bravest person I had ever met. After we got down, Mr. Frodo took me into the house and let me play with some of his old toys and played with them himself. I was so sad when Dad came in and said it was time to leave.  
I smiled at the memory, and watched as Mr. Frodo stirred himself and woke up, yawning. I settled back on my pillows, noticing that he looked a bit embarrassed at falling asleep. He shouldn't be, though, he has only just recovered from being ill, himself. He looked at my book, no doubt remembering the stories that lay inside, as it was Master Bilbo's book first. He asked if I wanted him to read to me. Of course I said yes. Mr. Frodo enjoys a good book more then anyone else I know, and that book was certainly the best book I had ever read. I'm not as fast a reader as Masters Frodo and Bilbo, but I've read that book more times than I can count. I never get tired of it, and I always find something different when I read it. As I listened to Mr. Frodo's steady, familiar voice I began to get drowsy again. I was rather tired of sleeping all day, but I really couldn't help it. I let my eyes close, telling myself that I needed to stay wake even if I didn't keep my eyes open. That was the last thing I remember clearly before I fell into a deep sleep.  
When I woke up again, it was dark. Mr. Frodo was no longer by my bedside, and it seemed as if he hadn't been there for quite sometime. Of course he would want to go home for the night, but I had hoped that he would have told me good-bye. A surge of loneliness went through me, I knew that I had no right to expect anything, but I couldn't help feeling a bit of sadness that he hadn't even left a… I had a sudden thought and looked over at the bedside table. There was a note lying there. I picked it up, my hand shaking with more than just cold. I opened it and held it up to the lamp, which had continued to flicker. ""Dear Sam," it began, it was a long one, so I settled back on the pillows, trying to find a comfortable spot to sit up in. "Dear Sam, I am sorry I had to leave without saying good-bye to you. I hope you understand that I didn't mean to be rude. I figured that you would think me ruder if I had woken you just to say that I was going home for the evening, so I left a note. I wouldn't leave at all, but there are some things that I must attend to early in the morning. I'll be back after I'm done. There maybe some people coming up to Bag End in a few days, and I want to ready for them. Try to sleep, and I hope to be there before you wake up. If I wasn't, I am very sorry. I hope to find you well, (or, at least better) your friend, Frodo. P.S. If you are reading this, try to go back to sleep, alright Samwise. F. B."  
I folded the note up and placed it back in the envelope and, draping my arm over my eyes, which had started to ache again, tried to go back to sleep.   
When I woke up next, I could tell that it was late morning without even opening my eyes. The next thing I knew, I was feeling something cold and wet against my lips. Gratefully, I accepted the drink. I was very thirsty, for some reason. "Sam, Sam, little sips now. You've been worse, and I don't want you getting sick."   
I knew that voice well, "Mr. Frodo?" I managed to get out of my throat, which seems to be on fire. "When," I swallowed hard, willing the pain away, "When did.."  
"Shh, Sam, don't try to talk. I got back here yesterday morning. You slept all day and all night. Your fever was frighteningly high, I was thankful to have some help. Last night I was afraid we were going to lose you."  
I had never been so confused in all my life. I didn't realize that I had lost a whole day. That in itself is scary, but then, to be told that I had almost been lost, I was more than alarmed. But then something else that Mr. Frodo had said hit me, "Help?" I croaked.  
Just then two usually mischievous people came around the corner, quiet, for once. "How are you feeling, Sam?" Merry Brandybuck asked as he came in the room, followed closely by his partner in crime, Pippin Took.  
"Lost," I told them truthfully. "Mr. Frodo, what do you mean, you though you were going lose me. I wasn't that sick, was I? What happened?"  
I saw a far away look in Mr. Frodo's eyes, he looked sad, very sad, and the look on his face told me plainly that he didn't want to talk about it. It must have been bad, then. Pippin spoke up, "You were really sick, Sam. Frodo was scared. We just came over yesterday morning, and Frodo was leaving just as we were coming. Merry asked him what he was doing, and he said that he was going to check on you. He said that you were ill, so we offered to come along. When we got here, you were sicker than he said you were last night, and he was scared, so we all took care of you."   
If I wasn't confused earlier, Pip's jumbled account of things made me confused now. Merry tried to fill in the blanks, "What he means is that we came up to Bag End to pay Frodo a visit, as we told him we were going to do this week, but he was leaving just as we were getting there. He told us that you had been ill, so we asked if we could come along to help. When we go here, we found you sleeping, but Frodo said that you looked a lot worse than you had last night." He paused to take a drink of water, then continued, "Frodo did most of the taking care of you, actually, we just got him anything that he needed, and helped the best that we could."  
I leaned my head against the headboard. Mr. Frodo was looking as if he wished they wouldn't talk about it. I could see why, it is very painful to watch someone be so ill that you really can't do anything but try to make them comfortable. Master Frodo had been like that before, on quite a few occasions. Pippin broke in, "You really don't remember anything? Frodo was so worried about you…"  
I had to cut Pip off, seeing that Mr. Frodo looked ready to cry, "I really don't want to hear about it. If it was that bad, I am very grateful that I was not awake to feel it. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I am exhausted, and I want to go back to sleep."  
I dozed fitfully for a few hours, aware that my fever had, indeed, gotten higher. I felt terrible, very achy and cold. I shivered when something wet and cool came into contact with my face. "You'll be alright, Sam." I relaxed upon hearing Mr. Frodo's soft voice. Merry and Pippin were nice, but too boisterous to be around when I'm feeling ill, whereas Master Frodo is quiet and gentle. "Here, I want you to drink a bit more of this juice, can you try?"  
I nodded, trying to push my head up to have a drink. It tasted wonderful. He helped me take small sips until I began to feel very sleepy again. Then he read to me. As I was falling asleep I thought I heard yelling and arguing coming from the kitchen, but I chose to ignore it, I didn't care if Double Trouble tore up my whole house, as long as I could go back to sleep. 


	6. Worrying Frodo's point of view

Disclaimer, same as the ones before, I own nothing. I am sad.  
A/N I realize that Sam lived with his family, but this is AU in the fact that he lives alone, it's gives more of a dramatic effect to the story.  
  
I was watching Sam sleep again. After he relapsed I was taking no chances by leaving his side. I felt it was partly my fault that he got so sick so soon. Especially after he seemed to be getting better. I settled down in the chair and just let the events hit me.   
  
(A/N This is the beginning of the memory, to get you all caught up on what happened during that day.)  
  
I was expecting Merry and Pippin to come over sometime in the week so I wanted to get things ready for them, including, but not limited to, getting all things flammable and breakable out of my house, or at least locked up. Well, maybe not that drastic, but I suppose I'm getting the general idea across. After I got things all straightened up, I got ready to leave. I locked up Bag End, turned around and ran head long into Merry. "Ooff, Frodo, are you coming or going?"  
  
I grinned at my younger cousin, "Going, actually. Sam's ill, I was going down to his place to see if he's doing any better. He seemed to be feeling a bit better when I left him last night, but I want to look in on him, just the same. I left last night without telling him that I was leaving."  
  
Pippin spoke up, "We'll come with you. We can help."  
  
Then it was Merry's turn, "Yes, you might need some help taking care of him. Anyway, we like Sam, too."  
  
They looked so hopeful, and they had, after all, come to see me, so I said that they could come. I hoped Sam wouldn't mind. They walked along side of me, talking mostly to each other. I listened half-heartedly as we went down to Sam's place, but my mind wasn't with them. It was on Sam. I hoped that he was feeling better.  
  
We got there in due time and I let myself in, knowing that it would be futile to knock, as he wouldn't hear me. That cold feeling met me again when we came in the house. It felt almost not lived in. "Pip, could you light a… wait a minute, Merry, could you light a fire? It's chilly in here. Pip, get some water in the teapot. I'm going to look in on Sam."  
  
"Sheesh, you catch one rug on fire and you're branded for life!" I hear Pippin complain loudly as he went into the kitchen. I laughed as I went towards Sam's room. Pippin was still in his early tweens and could be so childish at times but I loved him dearly. I couldn't think of one of his relations who didn't love him. He had a way of wriggling into people's affections and staying there.   
  
I knocked lightly on Sam's door, waited a little bit, then knocked again. When I got no answer, I opened it quietly, "Sam? Sam, can you hear me?" I walked closer to the bed and gasped at what I saw. His face was almost grey and waxy. He looked dreadfully sick. "Merry, can you come in here for a bit?"   
  
I tried to keep my voice calm, but Merry knows me too well, "Frodo, what wrong? Oh, what happened?" He looked down at Sam, who hadn't stirred one bit since I had been in there. His breathing was very shallow and labored.   
  
"I don't know, he wasn't half this ill when I left last night. He just got worse, that's all. I shouldn't have left him, Merry, I should have stayed here. I could have helped him, and he wouldn't have gotten this bad. Feel how hot his forehead is." I put my own hand on it to demonstrate that my poor friend did have a fever and it was high.   
  
Merry did so as well, "He's warm alright, Frodo. I don't know what you could have done, though, you couldn't have stopped him from getting worse if his body decided that it was going to do so. You should probably send for a healer, I'll go, if you'd like."  
  
"Thank you, Merry. I think that would be for the best. But Sam doesn't like healers that much. He says that they give him the 'willies'."  
  
"Well, even if he doesn't like to have one over, he needs to have one. Besides, I'm not sure if he'll be awake to see him."  
  
I nodded, Merry had a point, as usual. He has a good head on his shoulders, he just picks and chooses times that he wants to use it. He's good in a crisis, but when it's not necessary, he acts just as irresponsible as Pip. "Will you go get him? I want to be here incase Sam wakes up."  
  
"Sure, do you want me to take Pip with me? If you don't want him underfoot, I understand. He can be a handful on rare occasions."  
"  
No, he can stay. Besides, if we tell him we need a healer, he'll know something's up, and I don't want to worry him. He can help me here."  
  
Merry looked skeptical, "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have something else to worry about."  
  
I smiled, "Pip's not a worry, I promise. He can help me by getting me anything that I need. I want to stay in here as much as possible."  
  
Merry nodded, grabbed his cloak and left. Shortly there after, Pippin came into the room. "Frodo, where is Merry going? Is Sam alright? Is he worse?"  
  
I looked into his concerned eyes, "Yes Pippin, he's worse, Merry went to get a healer. He'll be back soon. Now, if I could ask you to make me a cup of tea, I don't want to leave him if I can help it. Merry did light a fire in the stove, didn't he?"  
  
Pip rolled his eyes, "Yes, Frodo, Merry lit a fire in the stove. I wouldn't catch the house on fire, you know. That was a long time ago."  
  
I pinched his cheek playfully, "That was last winter. You're very lucky I love you so much, or we wouldn't be on speaking terms. That rug was made by the Elves, you know."  
  
Pip laughed and I joined him. "Anyone would think to hear you talk that I scorched it to a cinder. I didn't! I put a small burn on it by dropping the starter paper."  
  
"Well, anyway, can you manage to get me my tea without doing something foolish?"  
"  
Yes." I watched him stalk out of the room then turned my full attention back to Sam. The water from the previous day was still there, so I washed his warm face with it. Then I picked up the book and read from where we left off the night before.  
  
I was still reading, occasionally taking a sip from my teacup, when Merry showed the healer in. "What seems to be the trouble with this him?" He asked, wasting no time with pleasantries. He obviously looked as if we had interrupted a very busy day with a rather trivial matter.  
  
I stood up to meet him, "thank you for coming Mr. Maggot." (A relation to the farmer who I used to steal mushrooms from. Looking back on that day, that could have been why he was eyeing me with such distaste and was so rude to me later.) "Sam is very sick you see. He has a high fever and he hasn't woken up since we've been here."  
  
"I see young sir, now, if you will step a side, I can have a look." I did as he said, a bit resentful of his rudeness. I never have liked pushy people, and he was very pushy. He finished his examination more quickly than I thought was necessary to find out what was really wrong with him. Presently, the healer stood up, "Well, he has influenza. Nothing I can do about that. Best let him recover on his own. Now, if you will excuse me, I have patients who I can actually help, good day Mr. Baggins."   
  
I led him to the door and showed him out. Then I went back into Sam's room. "Well, that was a waste of time," I told Pip and Merry as I sat down on the chair by Sam's bed. "And if he tries to bill us, I will send it right back to him, unpaid." Pippin laughed and sat down on the arm of the chair, Merry did the same on the other arm.   
  
"Do you think he's going to be alright?" Pip sounded worried.  
  
"I think so. Sam's a fighter, underneath." I took his cold, limp hand in my own warm one, and put my other arm around Pippin's waist. I felt his head lean on my shoulder, and Merry's on my other one. I placed Sam's hand gently back on his abdomen and hugged Merry as well. "Come on you two, I'm hungry. Let's get a quick elevensies and bring it in here to eat."  
  
Those two are always ready to eat, so they jumped up and headed straight for the kitchen. I bent over Sam and pushed his slightly sweat-dampened bangs out of his face, then followed. Merry was toasting the bread and Pip was cutting pieces of ham. I picked up a sharp knife and a block of cheese, and began slicing it. Together we made a lovely tossed salad, Merry made the dressing that was so highly praised by all of his family. We each took three cookies and, with everything on trays, went back into Sam's room. Merry and Pippin had brought kitchen chairs into the room earlier that day, so they sat on them, but I never left Sam's side. If he woke up, he was going to need something.   
  
When we finished eating, Pippin spoke up, "I think you skipped second breakfast, Frodo." He was looking pointedly at me. I thought about that, realizing that I had, indeed skipped it and first breakfast in my hurry to get to Sam.  
  
Merry was watching me as well and seemed to know what was going on in my head. "You know, if you don't eat them you could get sick too and be of no help to Sam. Then we would have to take care of both of you, Sam would get better first and he would try to take care of you, too, and he would get sick again and it would all be you fault. Won't you feel guilty if Sam got worse because you wouldn't take care of yourself?"   
  
"Point taken, you manipulative Brandybuck! I just don't feel as if I could leave him right now. I had planed on eating when I got here, but then he was so sick, and you two were here and, well, I just forgot, I guess."  
  
Pip looked scandalized, "How could you forget to eat?! Weren't you starving? I would have been starving."  
  
I smiled at him, "No, Pippin, I wasn't starving. I wasn't thinking about my stomach right then. I was thinking about my best friend and the fact that he needed me. The same way you would have been if Merry was so ill." I knew that I had struck a chord when I mentioned Merry by the way that Pippin drew just a bit nearer to him. "I'm still a little hungry, if that makes you two feel any better."  
  
Merry got up, "I'll go get you something to eat. An apple alright with you?" I smiled, apples were one of Merry's favorite foods.  
  
"An apple would be nice. I think after that I'm going to take a nap, if neither of you mind. I'm really tired."  
  
They nodded and Merry got up to get me my apple. He tossed it to me and I bit into it with relish. Sam grows the best apples I have ever had, and I lived with the Brandybucks, who were famous for their apple orchards. Even Merry, who is biased, loves Sam's.   
  
Pip's shocked voice broke through my trying to finish my snack in peace, "That's so disgusting, Frodo, why do you do that?" He was referring to the fact that I eat the whole thing, core and all. He's always thought that it was rather odd, but he had never called it disgusting before.  
  
I wiped my hands on the back off my trousers and stood up, ruffling his hair as I stretched my legs. "I think I'll take that nap now, you two."  
  
"Come on, Pip, that's Frodo talk for get out of here."  
  
I laughed as I watched them scamper out of the room. Shortly, I heard the front door shut. Peace at least. I love those two more than I could ever tell, but there are times when they are too rambunctious for me. I took a patchwork afghan from the foot of the bed, pulled it over me, took Sam's hand in mine again and fell asleep.  
  
When I woke up, I was treated to four eyes staring at me as if I were the most interesting thing in the world.  
I looked at one face, then the other and Merry spoke first, "You missed dinner." He sounded annoyed.  
  
"And afternoon tea!" Pippin added, as though it were the worst sin he had ever heard of.  
  
"Frodo, we just talked about this." Merry continued, "Do you want to get sick too?" I shook my head feeling guilty, "Then you need to eat. We made supper. Fried mushrooms in wine sauce, broiled fish, salad, creamed turnips, broccoli soup and for desert plumb pudding with chocolate sauce."  
  
My stomach was growing just thinking about that, one really good thing about the Brandybucks and the Tooks, they never do anything half-heartedly, but one thing bothered me, "Where did you find the time to cook all that?"  
  
"Frodo, you have been asleep for five hours. We tried to wake you several times, but you just mumbled and rolled right over again."  
  
Five hours, I didn't think it would be that long, "Sam, is he…"  
  
Pippin answered this time, "No change. He's still out like a candle."  
  
"I see," I felt let down, I guess I was hoping that he would wake up if I slept long enough.  
  
"I'm going to get supper, I'll bring you yours on a try, alright." Merry stood up. I nodded, barely acknowledging him. I just wanted Sam to get better.  
  
After my wonderful, large meal, I read, feeling a bit helpless. I didn't know what else to do for Sam. It must have been around one a.m. before I snuffed out the candle and fell asleep.  
  
(End of memory.)  
  
I rubbed my eyes a glanced down at Sam, who was watching me with great interest, "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" His voice was scratchy sounding from not being used, but it was Sam's voice all the same.   
  
I patted his shoulder, "I'm fine now, Sam, just fine."  
  
He snuggled under the blanket, content with my answer, "Mr. Frodo, could I be so bold as to ask you to read again? I'm feeling I mite better, but my head is still weak."  
  
"Dear Sam, of course I'll read to you, where did we leave off?" I picked up the book and found our place. I read to him a story of an elf who wanted to see the hobbits, one of his favorites. He stayed awake the whole time. I knew the worst had past and now he was getting better, for real.  
  
A/N WHOA, that was a long chapter! That's what happens when I try to fit a whole day in one. Ah well, hope you liked it. 


	7. Recovering Sam's point of view

Disclaimer, I wish I owned them, if I did I could get money from this, but as I don't I have to keep working my day job.  
  
  
I was listening to Mr. Frodo read my favorite story in that book. The one about an elf who wanted to go to the Shire to see the hobbits. She found them, and every year after that came to see them in the spring because she liked them so much. The first time Master Bilbo read that story to me, when I was just a wee thing sitting on his lap, I ran to the window when he finished, hoping to see that lady elf. I did that every year in the spring, until my dad explained to me that I was old enough to know that it was just a made up story, she wasn't real. I remember running up to Bag End in tears because I wanted her to be real so badly, knocking on the door and rushing in when Mr. Frodo opened it. I pushed past him and threw myself into Master Bilbo's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He asked me what was wrong, and I told him what my dad had said and asked him flat out if she was real. He took me by the hand and led me to a painting that I had never paid very close attention to. Then he lifted me up, "Do you see that shadow in the background, Samwise?" I nodded, sniffing, "I have always imagined that that was her. I don't think she's real, at least not in the way that you thought she was, but I think that she is real in your imagination, you can pretend that she's real, and that's almost as good as her being so. In fact, it's better, because you can see her any time you want to. You know that elves are real, but that was just a made up story. One day, you just may see a real elf, Samwise, then you can see if you imagined her right."  
  
That was good enough for me, though I still find myself going to the window every spring and looking semi-hopefully out of it, as if I will see her if I just keep looking.  
  
I sighed, without thinking about it. "What's wrong?"  
  
Mr. Frodo's voice made me jump, I had almost forgotten that he was there. "Nothing's wrong, Mr. Frodo, I was just thinking about the first time I heard that story, when your uncle read it to me. I was so enchanted by it. I think I'd like to see elves, myself, someday, you know what I mean? It would be the best thing I can think of. Wouldn't you like to see them, Sir? I mean, I think they would be wonderful. I wonder what they would think of us, though. We aren't that interesting to other folks, if you take my meaning. We… I'm sorry, Master Frodo, I shouldn't be talking so. I might be boring you."  
  
He laughed, "Nonsense, Sam, it's good to hear you talk, although I think you could be hurting your throat. You still sound hoarse. But after not hearing you talk for so long, I missed it. It's frightening, seeing my best friend like that. Especially when I'm so used to him talking." He smiled at me and ruffled my hair.  
  
I laughed, my Gaffer always said I talked too much. Mr. Frodo was still speaking, "Do you think you can try to sleep? You need all the rest that you can get, or you will never recover."   
  
I nodded, "Now that you mention it, I am a little tired. Will I never stop sleeping?"   
  
That was not the kind of question that I thought needed an answer, but he gave me one just the same, "Yes, Sam, you will stop sleeping. But not just yet. Your poor body has been working hard to fight this off. That's why you're tired." He pulled the blankets over me, "Now rest, I'll be here when you wake up."  
  
I obediently closed my eyes and allowed my body to relax. I thought of pleasant experiences and better times.  
  
I woke up a few hours later, to see Pippin sitting very lightly on the foot of my bed. He was reading a book, quiet for once. "Hello, Mr. Took. What brings you in here?"  
  
He heaved a little sigh, "Frodo and Merry said I'd help better if I came in here and watched over you. I had a small mishap in the kitchen. I knocked over the canister of flour and then spilled water on top of it. It was a mess. Merry sat me down and gave me a lecture about being more careful. He should talk, anyway. He was the one who broke my mother's favorite vase the last time he was at our place. Well, then Frodo told him that, because it was an accident, he shouldn't be so hard on me, and that I should go and see if I could help you in any way."  
  
He looked so self-reproachful that I felt sorry for him. I patted the place closer to me, when he sat down, I rubbed his back. "It hasn't been easy for any of you, has it?" He shook his head. "Well, I know Mr. Merry and he never stays mad at you for any length of time, does he?" Another shake of the head, "So don't read too much into his reprimand. How about I tell you a short story?" He nodded happily. I started telling the one about the lady elf. I know that one so well I can tell it without reading, which is why I chose it. My head still hurt a bit, but I was feeling much better.   
  
I was just finishing up when Mr. Frodo came into my room, "Ah, Sam, you're awake. Good, I made you some tea and I thought made you would like to try to take some soup. Merry made some cream of mushroom with chicken in it."  
  
I closed my eyes at the thought of eating that. Even though I was recovering, I didn't think I could stomach something so heavy just yet. I looked up at him and saw that he was smiling, "I understand, Sam. I'll tell Merry that it's nothing personal, and bring you back something lighter."  
  
He brought me some toast with a bit of jam on it, an apple, a small piece of baked chicken and my tea. As he set it down, he studied my face, "Don't worry, you don't have to eat it all. Just make an effort."  
  
I nodded, but as I was doing so, the smell of the food hit me and I found myself actually feeling hungry, something I hadn't really felt for awhile. Mr. Frodo laughed as I dug into my food, finished it, then asked for a bit more. When I was done with that, I settled down against my pillows, quite comfortable and a little sleepy again.  
  
"Come on Pip," I heard him say, as I began to doze off, "Let's leave him be, he's well on his way."  
  
I slept the whole night and woke up feeling pretty weak, but aside from that I felt almost back to my old self. I got up and pulled on my bath robe. I walked, unsteadily, into the living room and saw Merry sleeping on the couch, Pippin curled up in the armchair but Mr. Frodo was nowhere in sight. A voice behind me made me jump, "Sam, what in the world are you doing up?"  
  
I turned to see him in the doorway of the kitchen, up to his armpits in soapsuds, an apron tied around his waist and his shirt all wet. "I feel much better, Mr. Frodo, thought I'd come out here and sit with you all, for a change. My room's awful dull, you see, Mr. Frodo."  
  
He laughed, "I suppose it would be Sam. Come and talk to me while I do the dishes, alright?"  
  
I reached for another apron, more than ready to do my part. He snatched it out of my hand. "Oh no you don't, Master Gamgee, you are still recovering, and I'll not have you getting sick again by getting chilled from water and over work. You can sit on that chair and supervise, I'm not sure where all this goes."  
  
I sat down at the table, scared that if I didn't do as he said, he would send me back to bed. He held up a serving platter that my younger sister, Marigold, bought me one Yule. "Where does this go?"  
  
I bit my tongue in an effort to keep from saying, "in the waste-bin." I think it's ugly, but she thought it was wonderful. I can't hurt her feelings, she's the only little sister I have. I pointed to a cupboard beside the sink, "In the back. How did it get out? I never use it."  
  
"Pippin thought it would make a good plate, as it's so big, so he ate off of it."  
  
"How did he find it? I kept it, um, well preserved."  
  
Mr. Frodo laughed, "I think what you mean is you kept it well hidden." He looked at it thoughtfully, "Well, it's kind of cute, when you look at it at this angle." He held it out in front of him.  
  
"She's my sister, Mr. Frodo. It's ugly. I keep it because it was from my sister even though it is ugly. She bought it the first time my mother said that she was old enough to go out and by presents without Mother's help. I had never seen her so proud of herself than the day she came back from the village, pulling a small handcart behind her. I couldn't guess what was in it. Then, on Yule, she gave us all these odd shaped packages and we all got platters that looked the same, but we pretended to love them."  
  
Mr. Frodo was laughing, "Sam, it's stories like that that make me wish I had brothers and sisters. You sound as if you had so much fun growing up."  
  
A far away look came over him. I stood up and walked over to where he was standing, "You were welcome in our house anytime, Mr. Frodo. You know that. But then, so did Master Bilbo, he rarely took us up on it unless we invited him, if you know what I mean Sir. What I mean to say is that we had to go over and ask him to come, he wouldn't just knock on our door and ask to have a visit. I couldn't live if I couldn't just walk into my parent's house anytime I felt like it."  
  
He looked as though he was thinking about something, finally he spoke up. "You're related to them Sam. It's different when you're not family."  
  
"I came up to Bag End when ever I felt like it. Did you or Master Bilbo resent that because I wasn't family?"  
  
"Sam, you were… family." He broke out into a grin, "I see where you're going with this one. Very clever, fine, the next time I get the urge, I'll just come down and visit you in the middle of the night."  
  
"I wouldn't mind, you know, Master Frodo, if you needed to talk about something that couldn't wait." I put my arm around his shoulder. I'm sure he gets lonesome up there without Master Bilbo around. He smiled at me then began putting the dishes away again.   
  
I sat back down. I was still sick, even though I felt much better. I got tired from walking over to the sink, a walk that I would have never thought of as long before now. A teacup was set in front of me, "Here you are Sam, just relax, do you need to go back to bed?"  
  
"No, thank you Mr. Frodo. I don't want to go back to bed, much as that's all the same to you that is, Sir? I like being out here."  
  
He smiled, "Alright Sam, you don't need to be cooped up in that room anymore. When Merry gets up, we'll make you a bed out on the sofa, you can stay out there today, sound good?"  
  
I nodded again and looked up to the doorway to see Pippin yawning and stretching, "Morning Frodo, morning Sam." He walked over to the sink for a glass of water then turned around again, "Sam! You're up!" He threw his arms around me and squeezed, then ran back into the living room, "Merry, get up, Sam's up, he's well again!"  
  
"Peregrin Took! If you don't stop shaking me I swear I will clobber you!"  
  
Frodo started laughing hard, "Merry is not a morning person. I got him up early once to open presents during Yule and he would not speak to me for the rest of the day."   
  
I laughed too, we heard a great deal of arguing in the other room, Merry doing most of it, telling Pip over and over that he was not going to be moved. "Hey, give me that back!" We then watched in interest as Pippin ran into the kitchen, carrying what looked like a large quilt, and Merry was hot on his heels.  
  
Merry stopped chasing his cousin long enough to grin at me, "Hello Sam, good to see you up and around again. Glad you're feeling better." Then he was off after Pip, "If you wake me up at this hour ever again, you will be taken to the trolls and I will tell them how to cook you, you little Took brat!"  
  
Frodo sat down in a chair beside me, and we watched the fun together. I was glad that I was feeling better too. I wouldn't have missed this for anything. 


	8. Talking Frodo's point of view

Disclaimer, The hobbits told about in this story do not belong to me, much as I wish I could say differently.  
  
  
It had been five days since Sam's recovery, not enough time to regain his strength, but he insisted on coming back to work anyway. I told him he could, mostly because I miss his company while he worked, but I had to admit that Bag End was beginning to look a bit moth-eaten. I have tried to keep up on things before, like the time when Sam and his father both had bad colds and couldn't come, some years ago, or when Sam twisted his ankle falling on some loose gravel, last summer. It didn't work however, I am just not a gardener. In fact, when the Gaffer got well again, he gave me a tongue lashing for butchering the front hedges. Last summer, Sam thanked me kindly for trying to help him out, then begged me never to help again.  
  
He came into the house for a glass of water and to rest a bit. He had rested more that he had worked, but I didn't say anything. He was still weak from being so sick, and I knew that he wouldn't be sitting down so often if he didn't need it. He was much thinner than he had been before he became ill, and a lot more pale, but he was still in excellent spirits so I sat down with him and we talked for some time, then I glanced out the window. "Sam, I think someone else want to tell you how glad she is that you're feeling better." He turned in his chair and looked out the window to see Rosie Cotton. I chuckled softly, "Go on, she's waiting for you."  
  
He walked down to let her in, then, much to his credit, picked up his sheers and began clipping as he talked. The clipping grew less and less, and finally he set them down again and just talked to her. I laughed out right and turned back to the stove. Pippin and Merry walked in at that moment. "What's so funny?" Pip asked.  
  
"Sam and Rosie. Look at them."  
  
"What, aren't going to get mad at Sam for talking while he's supposed to be working?" Merry asked, teasingly.  
  
"No, he deserves it, besides, at least he's talking to her, rather than tiptoeing around her as if she was going to bite him."  
  
We watched as he gave her a small rosebud that he had cut off a bush earlier, and she took it with a big smile on her face. Then she started back down the walkway and he turned back to his work.  
  
He came in about a half hour later, for more water and another "breather" as he called it. I was ready to send him home, for fear that he was over working himself, but something stopped me. He knew just how hard to push himself this first day back to work. He's wiser than some in that respect, including me. He knows that if he can't make it so long without a break, he needs to take one. But he doesn't take too many. I know how shaky you feel after that illness, having had it myself. Memories flooded back to me about when I was ill so often in the past and how he took care of me. I was glad that I could return the favor, at least this once. He stood up presently and told me that he was going back to work. I smiled back at him. "Alright, Sam. Come back in if you need anything, I'll be here."  
  
He turned from the door, "I know Mr. Frodo, you'll always be here." He gave me a grin and walked out.  
  
Yes, I would always be there for him, and he for me. An old saying came into my head, "One good turn deserves another." Give and take, that what kind of friendship we had, I always felt as if Sam had been giving more than I had, and I felt rather guilty, but I'm not sure if he thinks that way. He just does his part, and doesn't notice anything else. I think that's what makes Sam who he is and why everyone in the Shire would want to call him a friend. And I'm proud to call him my best friend.  
  
A/N Finished. Well, what did you think? I would like to say thank you to all those who reviewed and say that any other feedback is appreciated. 


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